Whirlwind - Janet Dailey Page 0,56

got the credit card.” Tess carried the bags inside.

Lexie helped unload the supplies, including the two dozen twenty-pound bags of Total Bull feed that Tess had picked up at the freight office. After stacking them in the shed, she climbed into the truck and set out on the hour-long drive to the isolated town that served as a lifeline for the ranch.

* * *

Decades ago, Ajo, pronounced ah-ho, had been a copper boom town. The boxlike company houses, laid out on formal streets that radiated from a central plaza, were still there, as was the huge open pit on the outskirts and the long row of tailings that stretched as far as the eye could see. After the mine closed, the town had almost died. Now it was thriving again as a retirement community and artist’s colony.

Lexie hadn’t been to the home of her childhood friend in several years, but she had no trouble finding the small, neat, stucco house with desert landscaping in the front yard. But a dark premonition crept over her as she parked the truck and walked through the front gate. It was as if she were about to learn something she didn’t want to know.

What would she say to Rianne and her parents? She’d already decided not to tell them she was here on behalf of Corey. Just a friend coming to see the baby—that would be her excuse. Too bad she hadn’t brought a gift to back it up.

It was Rianne’s mother who answered the door. She’d aged since Lexie had last seen her. Today she looked especially strained. Her eyes were red, as if from recent weeping. Behind her, in the living room, her husband was reading the newspaper in the same La-Zy-Boy recliner that Lexie remembered from the old days. He looked up, then returned to his paper.

“Hello, Mrs. Hurtzler,” Lexie said. “I was in the neighborhood and I thought I’d stop by to see Rianne and the baby. Are they here?”

Ella Hurtzler stepped back from the door. “Come in, Lexie. It’s good to see you. Have a seat. Would you like a soda?”

“Thank you, but no,” Lexie said, perching on the edge of an overstuffed chair. “Is something wrong? Where’s Rianne?”

“She told me you came to the hospital. She said you were kind.”

“I tried to be. She was very distraught—and still in shock, I’m sure. But I thought she was going to stay with you. Isn’t she here?”

Mrs. Hurtzler plucked at her collar as she shook her head. “Rianne left two days ago. She took the baby and went to live with her sister in California.”

Shocked speechless, Lexie stared at her.

“I tried to talk her out of it,” the woman said. “But she insisted she couldn’t be a good mother and take care of a disabled husband at the same time. She had to choose between Corey and little Rowdy. She chose her baby.”

“But why now? Why so soon? Corey’s still in rehab.”

“The lawyer she talked with told her that the sooner she files for divorce, the less chance she’ll have of being stuck with his expenses.”

“Didn’t he have insurance through the PRCA?”

“Yes, but not enough for this. Not enough for a lifetime.” Mrs. Hurtzler sighed. “We love Corey, and we’re heartbroken about what happened. But Rianne’s our daughter. We have to stand by her. I’d give you her new address, but she doesn’t want anybody trying to find her and change her mind.”

Still numb with disbelief, Lexie said good-bye to Rianne’s parents, filled the truck’s gas tank, and took the road out of town. She remembered Rianne weeping desperately in her arms, wondering how she was going to manage with a baby and an injured husband. This was her answer—she wouldn’t manage. Or maybe she was too scared to try.

It was hard not to judge her. But Lexie had never walked in her friend’s shoes. Faced with the same decision, what would she do?

Lexie understood that the baby’s needs had to come first. But what a heartless decision—and Rianne had made it without even telling her husband. Now Corey had lost the use of his legs, his career, and his family.

And it would fall to Shane to break the news.

Sick at heart, she drove home, shut herself in the office, and composed a long e-mail to Shane, telling him everything she’d learned. She’d left him the choice of how much and when to tell Corey, even offering to help if he needed her. There were no words for how terrible